BG01C—Never in the Nendaran Expanse
by VST
Summary: When Apollo becomes lost in a battle with the Cylons, he has to turn to some very unusual and somewhat unsavory individuals for assistance if he's to ever make it home. Of course, when they think the strait-laced Colonial Warrior is the unusual one... Completed 11/28/19!
1. Chapter 1

**BG01C—Never in the Nendaran Expanse  
**By VST

**_Summary: _**_When Apollo becomes lost in a battle with the Cylons, he has to turn to some very unusual and somewhat unsavory individuals for assistance if he's to ever make it home. Of course, when they think the strait-laced Colonial Warrior is the unusual one..._

**_Disclaimer:_**_ This story is a work of fiction, written entirely for fun and not for profit. This interpretation of the world of Battlestar Galactica is entirely my own, and Battlestar Galactica and all of its various components remain the property of their respective owners._

**_Author's Note:_**_ This story takes place a few weeks/sectons after the events of the episode "The Living Legend."_

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

Four Blue Squadron Warriors sat on duty in the Ready Room in Alpha Bay, ready to rush to their Vipers and launch at a moment's notice. This way, they would be able to respond immediately to attacking Cylons or anything else that threatened the ships of the Rag-Tag Fleet.

Unfortunately, being assigned duty in the Ready Room was about the most boring duty possible so Captain Apollo had followed the long-held tradition aboard battlestars: he was taking a turn at the duty, too. He was now regretting it because, with his paperwork out of the way, he was now missing his son, wondering what the future might hold with his new friend, and, most of all, succumbing to the mood of his three fellow Warriors. He sighed and looked over at them in turn.

Starbuck sat at the table, slowly flipping over pyramid cards. He looked a little frustrated that he couldn't guess the next card based on those already turned, but that seemed to change as he neared the bottom of the deck. By then, he was hitting some of them correctly.

Jolly was stretched out on the bed doing what Jolly liked best: lying on the bed, relaxing. Still, it was a very boring relaxation, so he rolled first one way and then the other, trying to find the most comfortable position. Repeatedly.

Trig was one of the younger Warriors, just graduated from the newly established Colonial Warrior Academy aboard the _Galactica_. Not quite seasoned enough to understand how boring their duty was, he was attempting to read a book. Apollo couldn't quite make out the name, but it looked like some type of adventure novel. Apollo noted that it was taking an extremely long time between the turning of pages.

Centons passed and Apollo's boredom increased. He finally rose and walked over to the table. "Okay, Starbuck. You win. Deal."

"I thought you'd never come to your senses," replied his friend with a laugh. Apollo nodded, but was half surprised to see that Jolly was already out of bed and joining them at the table and Trig was putting a marker in his book before coming over, too.

"Standard pyramid, six card draw, three rounds," said Starbuck. "Jolly, you want the honors?"

Jolly nodded and was soon shuffling the deck before starting the deal.

The first few hands weren't particularly memorable. Starbuck won most of them, with the others occasionally taking a game. As Trig dealt the cards for yet another game, Apollo was pleased after seeing the first four cards and quite happy after receiving the full hand. Looking at the cards closely, he knew he had a more than decent shot to defeat his friend.

"Starbuck, I think I've got you this, time, buddy."

Starbuck, on the other hand, didn't yet see it Apollo's way and was studying his cards closely. "I don't know, Apollo. See, despite whatever it is that you have, this is a mighty fine hand and I wouldn't want to fold without giving it a proper chance."

Jolly looked at his hand and tossed them in. "With you two hotshots claiming victory, I'm—"

The klaxon sounded and lights flashed, warning of imminent danger and the need for an immediate launch. In what looked like well-practiced moves, all four Warriors scooped up their cubits and ran for the boarding area next to the launch tubes. Apollo, knowing that Starbuck would never believe without seeing it, took his pyramid hand, too. The men climbed into their cockpits and strapped in while a member of the ground crew helped with their helmets and final checks before sealing the canopies. With the boarding ladder pushed back, each Viper was moved forward onto the launch rail as Colonel Tigh spoke to them via comm about a flight of Cylons seen moving along the perimeter of the nearby Nendaran Expanse. Unfortunately, the Raiders were well away from the flights of Vipers that were already patrolling its edge.

"Priority one is to keep those ships away from the fleet," said Tigh. "And may the Lords be with you."

Moments later, Rigel ran through the prelaunch checklist before saying, "Launch when ready."

Vipers shot down Launch Tubes One, Two, Three, and Four. When they were clear, the four Warriors turned their little ships and headed toward the nearby expanse.

~BSG~

The Nendaran Expanse was a gaseous cloud that largely filled the space between several stars that were considered "closely-spaced" in astronomical terms. Those on the other side of the expanse were dimly visible through the hazy space.

Colonial astronomers aboard the _Galactica_ said the cloud was the distributed off-gassing of a supernova of the center star in the group many generations earlier. They believed, based on some strange readings they'd gotten, that the remnants of the exploded star had collapsed in on itself, slowly condensing to possibly to become a black hole someday. Most of the experts theorized that it would be many more generations in the future before it would be a potential problem to those passing through the galactic neighborhood. Like any good astronomy question, though, a couple of others proposed alternate theories. Whatever it was, for now the chief concern had been the cover the expanse offered to any Cylons, pirates, or other ne'er-do-wells.

Trying to take advantage of that same cover, the fleet had been skirting the expanse for the past secton at Commander Adama's orders, staying just beyond the limits of the gaseous cloud in hopes that it would interfere with any long-range Cylon sensors or scans. The AstroNavigation Section aboard the _Galactica _had calculated that they would be past the expanse and approaching the next planned jump point within the next two sectons. Unfortunately, the appearance of the Cylons trying to do the same thing as the Colonials didn't bode well for Adama's plans.

"I'm reading two flights of three Raiders," called Apollo. "We need to take these out so the commander doesn't have to launch more Warriors and maybe spring a Cylon trap. Jolly, you and Trig take the flight on the right. Starbuck and I will take the ones on the left."

"Got it, Cap'n," agreed Jolly and Trig together.

"Let's keep them as far away as possible. On three, punch it."

Apollo gave the count and all four Vipers went to turbothrusters, accelerating the ships significantly and rapidly increasing the distance between the fighters and the fleet. As they neared the Raiders, the Cylons detected the incoming Vipers. Rather than engaging, they banked and all six Raiders entered the expanse.

"Well that's disappointing," groused Starbuck. "I really don't look forward to trying to find those guys in this soup."

"They must not have heard that you are the Hide and Seek champion of that little podunk system we visited a couple of sectars ago," said Apollo with a laugh.

"Don't remind me. If I ever see another asteroid, it will be too soon."

"The _Galactica_'s astronomers didn't think there should be any asteroids in this place, so maybe we'll be safe. Of course," added Apollo, "they did say something about a possible black hole."

"In the future, Apollo. Far in the future."

"You were awake! I thought you slept through that whole brief—hold on, I'm picking up something."

Three bursts of twin laser fire came stabbing in at them, but the plasma stream dissipated a little short of them each time. Both Warriors broke to their right and then pressed their turbothrusters for a micron to increase the distance between themselves and their pursuers.

"Guys, you got them?" asked Apollo.

"We're almost there," said Trig. "A little closer. Now!"

A pair of small flares and a large flash lit up a section of the expanse behind them before Jolly called, "One down!"

"I think I winged one of the others," said a disappointed Trig. "Not sure if it took any real damage, but they'll at least have a nice scorch mark to remember me by."

"Good job, guys," replied Apollo. "Stay alert. Let's find the rest of them and take them out before they find us again."

The search extended to five and then ten centons.

"Nothing," said Starbuck. "And my sensors are acting up. The astronomers said there was probably less matter per cubic metron than we'd have in a vacuum chamber, but I think my sensor array is attracting them like iron filings to a magnet, even though I thought they said it was almost all hydrogen."

"You really were awake in that briefing," laughed Apollo. "Maybe they're ionized and we're attracting them, because I'm getting that, too. Hopefully the Cylons are having the same trouble."

The short-range ship-to-ship comm sounded again, but this time is was filled with static. "Apollo, it's..ly. Our ships...ting up. I think...eed to get...of here."

"Jolly, you're breaking up. Say again."

A long burst of static was followed by intermittent words and static. "...sors acting up. Can't...thing. Head..."

"I think they're heading out of the—"

Apollo's ship shook as Cylon fire made a glancing blow on Engine number 2 when it slashed by almost perpendicular to the Vipers.

"Starbuck! My Number Two engine's down and Number Three was damaged in the blast!"

A flash of light to the rear told Apollo that Starbuck was on the job just before his comm cut in.

"...that one, but...er one...tail. Turbo..."

Believing that Starbuck was trying to tell him that another Raider was following him, Apollo made a split-micron decision. With his engines damaged, he wouldn't be able to use the inverse maneuver without a serious probability of losing control of this ship. Even on one engine, he could get some speed with the thrusters compensating for the resulting eccentric thrust. Therefore, Apollo thumbed the turbothruster button on his control stick.

The ship lurched forward but, as he expected, with much less acceleration than usual. Just as it did, he saw the flash of Cylon laser torpedoes zip by just past his cockpit. The Raider's gunner was using maximum charge, increasing the effective range at a disproportionate cost in fuel.

_They wouldn't do that unless...they knew my ship's damaged! _thought Apollo. _They're determined to take me out, whatever it takes, since there's no chance I'll be able to outrun th_em.

"Starbuck! Could use some—"

The laser fire was reaching the end of its effectiveness when a brilliant explosion came from dead ahead, interrupting Apollo in mid-sentence. The Cylon's fire had set off something in the expanse. Apollo tried to turn to avoid it when he saw the explosion, or whatever it was, continuing to move outward, as if opening up a dark spot straight ahead, but it was too little, too late. It expanded far quicker than his ability to dodge it, so, an instant later, his ship knifed into the blackness.

~BSG~


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Blackness extended in all directions.

Nothing was visible other than the lights of his own cockpit but he could immediately see that something was wrong. Even the lights showing the damaged engines weren't blinking. In fact, nothing at all seemed to be working.

Apollo tried to move but he felt frozen in place even as his mind raced. What had happened when his Viper entered the void? Was the void caused by the explosion or was the explosion what he was perceiving as the void?

He'd always heard of people's lives passing before their eyes in those few microns before death. Perhaps his ship was disintegrating around him as the explosion tore into it. Perhaps these were his final thoughts instead of about the people and places and times he had loved and experienced.

Perhaps he would be reunited with Serina in the next few millimicrons as his ship and his body were ripped to atoms from the force of the blast. Or perhaps the beyond was something more. Or something else entirely.

Whatever the result, Boxy would be an orphan, like so many other children in the fleet. It saddened him to think how it would affect the child and that he would not be able to be there as the father the boy so desperately needed. He knew Boxy would be able to depend on his sister and father and perhaps Starbuck and the other Warriors to serve as role models, but for him to be left alone again so soon after the death of his mother..._I'm so sorry, Son. I hope you'll have a happier, safer childhood than what's happened to you in recent sectars._

Apollo's thoughts shifted. He realized he'd never see his father again to tell him how proud he was of his efforts to save their people, how proud he was to be his son. _I love you, Father, and I wish you good luck and success in your goal to save our people and find the Thirteenth Colony._

Then there was Athena. He'd never be able to tell her how much he loved her and wanted to protect her following the loss to the Cylons of their mother and brother. _I hope you find what you're seeking in life, little sister, and I hope it brings you happiness._

His thought changed to Starbuck, a man like a brother to him, and how he'd not be there to help keep him on the straight and narrow. Apollo wanted to smile at the thought of Starbuck growing up a little more as the result of his death, but he felt bad for him having to take over Blue Squadron when the free spirit really didn't want to be in command. _May the Lords be with you and may you find it less objectionable than you believe if you have to take over as squadron leader or more._

There were thoughts on Boomer and a number of his other friends but his primary focus turned to Sheba. She was all too new to his life but he'd found his thoughts increasingly focused on her and had realized that she was of growing importance in his heart. He almost laughed to himself about considering it so cold and clinical like that rather than the warmth he actually felt toward her. _I'm sorry we'll never know where our journey might have taken us, whether together or on our separate ways. I believe it could have been a really good thing, this thing we had together, at least in time._

He recalled just a few evenings earlier when they'd walked the corridors together after Boxy had gone to sleep. They walked, side by side, in an uncomfortable silence until their fingers touched for that first time. It was as if a shock ran up his arm, so when, a moment later, they touched again, he hooked his little finger into hers, catching her pinky, too. She gave a sideways glance at him, wearing a little smile, before twisting her hand slightly so their fingers could mesh.

"Sheba—"

She held up the index finger on her other hand to her lips. "Shhh. Don't say it."

"Say what?" he asked, confused.

"Anything. Let's just enjoy the moment. We have time."

They didn't, he now realized. Time and all of those important connections that made him who he was would be gone in the coming moments as his life ended.

But then, as he thought his life was winding down, he was suddenly instilled with hope as he saw the lights for engines two and three starting, ever so slowly but ever so surely, to dim. He focused on those lights for what seemed like an eternity as he was able to confirm that they grew dimmer and dimmer to nothing for a while before slowly starting to increase in brightness once more.

_My life's not passing before my eyes! This is some type of time distortion, like some physicists believe is associated with black holes. I wonder if it was a lot more developed than our scientists believed. Or maybe..._

Colonial scientists had long debated the possibility of a rift in the space-time continuum, a so-called tunnel in space connecting two points of some distance and possibly even different times. Some called it, for lack of a better term, a wormhole, though their existence had never been proven. Whether that was what this was, Apollo didn't know but the little lights getting brighter, and then, after a time, starting to dim again told him that time was being affected even if he was trapped in one place standing still. The slow changing of a number on his screen was another confirmation.

_Something has to break this cycle_, he thought to himself. _If a Cylon blast got me into this, maybe..._

It took what felt like hours but Apollo's thumb eventually connected with the fire control button and then ever so slowly depressed it. The lasers firing seemed to take even longer, but eventually they moved ahead and seemed to cause yet another explosion just ahead of him. This time, though, when the void opened, Apollo saw stars in the distance beyond the blackness. As his ship emerged, he realized he could see stars all around him and that he and his Viper seemed to be moving at normal speed once again.

_Alive! But no time to celebrate!_

Checking his gauges, he saw that claiming normal speed for his ship was something of an exaggeration. The Viper was badly damaged and, with his sensors messed up from his time in the Nendaran Expanse, he really couldn't tell what was happening beyond what his eyes could see. Fortunately, not too far in the distance, he saw a largely blue and white planet that appeared as if it might have land masses, too. He took some visual star readings that would give him an idea of his location, but it was, he knew, all too approximate. Having done what he could, he moved his stick.

"Okay, Viper. Let's go check it out so we can get you checked out."

~BSG~

Using his lone engine to get as much speed as he could, it still took over twelve centars to close the distance to the planet he'd spotted. As he neared he saw darker areas of greens and browns in addition to broad expanses of blue. There was land down there. As for what type and whether the atmosphere would support him, he had no idea since his sensors refused to cooperate with him. He might be making a one-way trip that would leave him stranded or possibly even dead.

_If, that is, I can land this thing_, he thought once again. _Running on one engine, it might be too much for it._

In fact, the trip into the atmosphere was as nerve wracking as Apollo feared. The ship bucked and shook as he made his initial entry, trying to burn off some speed with only tiny bursts from the thrusters to keep the Viper on course.

When he broke through the upper cloud cover and got down to about 15,000 metrons, he saw he was over water, with no land anywhere in sight. He was flying in the direction he'd originally chosen to call east based on the planet's rotation seen from space; now that he was within the planet's gravitational pull, he found his guess had been correct based on the planet's magnetic pole. From what he'd seen from orbit, he should encounter land eventually.

At 7,500 metrons, he was beginning to get nervous but he at least had good news. Now that he was in the upper atmosphere, his atmospheric sensor, which used a pitot tube rather than the forward sensor array, detected a thin but breathable atmosphere.

"Excellent. By the time I get to the ground, it will probably be very similar to home. If it's not filled with biological pathogens that turn me to jelly. I can see the IFB report now," he said to himself before continuing with an imitation of the goofy InterFleet Broadcasting anchors. "Captain Apollo, survivor of countless encounters with the Cyons, was easily killed today by tiny alien microbes in their very first encounter. Neither Apollo nor the microbes were available for comment."

He chuckled at his attempt at a joke, but it was cut short as he fought the control stick in the increasing winds and looked at the atmospheric gauges. The Viper was dropping of its own accord and he wasn't certain whether he'd be able to pull it back up if he couldn't find a safe place to land. He boosted his working engine's power a bit to slow the rate of descent, but he quickly covered many kilometrons, seeing nothing below but water.

Dark clouds eventually became visible in the distance, just a little to his right. They seemed to stretch from the horizon to the sky.

"Hurricane, cyclone, fire, or maybe some type of primitive industrial activity? Several of those could mean land," he said to himself with a hopeful note. Moving the stick, he headed that way to check it out.

~BSG~

A sailboat or perhaps a sailing ship was the first thing he saw, but the Viper flashed by so quickly he got no more than a glimpse of it.

Land became visible just moments later. Patterns on the ground told him it was agricultural land, but he wasn't concentrating on that. There, some kilometrons in front of him, was a river with a large walled city on its far bank. Smoke was pouring into the sky from within the walls, making him think that the whole place was on fire, but as he got closer, he realized that the smoke wasn't from burning buildings but rather, from the city's many chimneys.

"Pre-industrial," he said aloud. "Potential for superstition if one lands directly in the midst of such people," he added, imitating one of the professors from his academy days.

He looked down into the city as he passed over at less than 2,000 metrons. It was large and appeared densely packed, with the walls extending on around the far side. The city sat at the north end of the land with the ocean or sea wrapping past it. Then he was beyond the far wall before he had time to see more.

Assuming he could blend in with the local population, a city meant there was a place to obtain food and shelter. Even with a pre-industrial city, there was a chance he could find help making repairs to his ship, too.

As he continued flying to the east, he saw what appeared to be a marsh or estuary system. That wasn't a good place to land, but, looking to the north, he saw a strip of sand along the coast. If he picked the right spot, a beach could offer an excellent landing strip. Making a choice, he cut his speed and headed that way.

~BSG~

It was a relatively smooth landing. When he was down and coming to a stop, Apollo decided to angle his ship closer to the line of dunes that separated the sea from the marshes beyond. There was no one visible, but he waited for a few moments before shutting down his engine in case anyone were to jump out at him.

Finally satisfied that he was truly alone, he reran the atmospheric test and got the same result as before, though with much better density. "Almost exactly like home. Now, about those microbes."

He put on the faceplate breather from his survival kit, opened the cockpit canopy, and did a scan with the portable. There were some pollens in the air, but nothing that was identified as being dangerous to him. "Well, here goes," he said just before taking off the faceplate. He took several deep breaths but didn't start gasping, coughing, or melting into ooze, so, with a sigh of relief, he stowed the faceplate, climbed out, and took a look at the damage.

It was extensive, but he'd seen much worse. Unfortunately, while he had some of the tools needed aboard the ship, the parts would be impossible to find here, but depending on the level of technology he found in the city, it was possible that they might be produced there. Therefore, he downloaded the complete schematic for the damaged area. Anything beyond was deleted to minimize the chance of the ship's plans falling into the wrong hands.

Next, he checked the sensor array. Handfuls of clean sand were used to gently rub it down to remove the microscopic material picked up in the Nendaran Expanse. He took a towel from the Viper's little hold and used it to wipe it down the rest of the way. If he could get the ship fixed and then had to make a quick getaway, the sensor issue would be one less thing to worry about.

With that out of the way, he pulled out a survival kit, some spare ammo for his blaster, and a dark gray-colored robe that he might be able to use to better fit in with the local population if they were reasonably humanoid. It was a cold, windy day, so he was glad to put in on over his Warrior uniform to help him stay warm. Finally, he chose a small tube labeled "Tan Netting" from the Viper's little storage unit.

Within a centar he was done. He'd closed and secured the Viper, covering it with the netting. Being careful not to get any of their sap on his hands, he cut some of the grasses from the dune with the survival knife from his kit; these he used to weave into areas of the netting to help better hide his ship. Another batch was used like a broom to sweep out some of the tracks left by the Viper's landing gear.

Standing a short distance away, he checked out his handiwork. The camouflage wouldn't be very effective at hiding the ship from someone walking by on the beach, but it should work for someone aboard a vessel out on the water. Nodding to himself that it would have to do, he turned and started walking west toward the walled city. If he was guessing correctly, it was somewhere between twenty and thirty kilometrons away.

~BSG~

Apollo walked on the beach for two or three kilometrons; if one were able to ignore the circumstances of his being there, Starbuck, he knew, would have been quite envious and would have loved the opportunity to visit. He chuckled at the thought, but then his thoughts turned to being able to play in the surf with Boxy on a somewhat warmer day. Perhaps Earth would have such places where they could visit when they finally arrived, assuming he made it home. The thought made him pick up his pace a bit, but he stopped soon thereafter as he came upon an inlet that connected the marsh to the sea.

The waterway was wide and looked deep. It also looked like it could hide any number of fierce creatures and the current looked strong. Considering that and the cold weather, swimming across was not his preferred option. Therefore, Apollo turned inland into the marsh to see if he could skirt around it or find a better place to cross.

"A bridge would be even nicer," he said to himself.

He hadn't gone far before he stopped to consider whether he'd made the right call. It was a salt-water marsh, as he suspected, and was just as wet and muddy as he'd feared. About the only good news was that the cold weather was limiting the number of insects. He had to struggle at times to push his way through the tall grasses that covered much of the area, with only small, scrubby trees occasionally dotting the wet landscape. Still, despite the slow going, it seemed fairly safe, with no large creatures about. He was on the verge of making a decision about continuing forward or turning back when the decision was effectively made for him.

A human-sounding cry rang out in the distance. Apollo searched for the source of the sound for several mircons before finally seeing a humanoid man in the distance. The man seemed to be flailing at something and apparently shouting something after some of the efforts.

Despite being far from the Fleet and those needing his help, Colonial Warriors in general and Apollo in particular always felt the need to go to the assistance of those needing it. Apollo headed toward the man, making the best speed he could through the marsh, while hoping the man would still be alive by the time he arrived. It took several centons but he got there to see the man surrounded by a number of strange creatures, with a few more apparently already dead from the man's sword and dagger.

Hoping he was doing the right thing, Apollo pulled out his blaster and moved in to help.

~BSG~

_**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading. Your feedback will be greatly appreciated._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: **Beginning with this chapter, the story becomes a crossover told from Apollo's perspective with an old fandom that is now practically extinct. The fandom name will be revealed a bit later to avoid any spoilers._

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

The man appeared to be relatively small, at least by Colonial standards, at perhaps 1.6 metrons in height at most. Dressed all in gray, the man was thin and wiry, was cleanshaven, and appeared to be in his mid to late 20s if he was as human as he appeared. A look of determination was locked on his face as he used a thin-bladed sword in his right hand and a slightly curved dagger in his left to cut and stab at the creatures surrounding him. Surprisingly, he appeared to be rather unconcerned about the precariousness of his situation, shouting at or possibly taunting them as he fought.

The creatures were grayish-white, roundish of body with a small head that held a pair of projecting mandibles and beaded, multi-faceted eyes. A tangle of legs surrounding the body completed the impression that, at about a metron across, it was a greatly oversized version of a crawlon from back home. Three of the creatures had already been dispatched, but there were about ten or twelve more to go.

Seeing that he was so outnumbered, Apollo called out to the man to avoid surprising him. "Need some help?"

The man was in the process of deftly slicing off a leg from one of the creatures before kicking another, sending it spinning into a third. The universal translator, Apollo noticed, said nothing; it had no baseline on the language, but the little man responded with several words that meant nothing to Apollo's ears. Still, the man nodded, as if he comprehended Apollo's meaning even without understanding the actual words.

Therefore the Warrior took aim with his blaster at one of the creatures, being careful to choose one that would keep the blaster pointed well away from the little man and which wouldn't throw pieces of giant crawlon all over him.

The first blast caught the bulbous creature dead on, sending the beast tumbling, with one of its legs flying away. Apollo was surprised, though, when it came to a stop; it splayed out its remaining legs as if untangling them, and then popped back up and made its way straight back toward him. Another pull of the trigger sent the creature cartwheeling away again with another leg going its own way, but the creature repeated the same process. This time, though, when it came at him, it was a little less steady than before. Unfortunately, another one caught sight of the Warrior and started moving forward with the first.

"These things are tougher than they look," called out Apollo to the little man as he increased the setting on his blaster. He fired again, sending another one of the creatures flying before shifting his aim to still another. He had to be quick about it, since three or four others had split off from the other man and were now making their way toward him.

The man called out something as he used his sword to block the bite of one of the crawlons before stabbing down into the middle of its back with the dagger. Another kick bowled one over and the man used the dead creature impaled on his knife to throw at another. Instead of his initial friendly demeanor, the little man was now talking nonstop, as if becoming angry about something, as he slashed and twirled about and stabbed at the creatures.

Apollo turned his blaster up to the maximum setting and fired again. He'd hit one of the creatures on each shot, but his blasts seemed to have little effect on them other than the loss of some limbs. Similar to before, he was able to separate a couple of legs from the beast as it tumbled away, but that still seemed to cause relatively little real damage. Like the others, it rose up and made its way toward him once again.

As it did, the little man was now moving at blazing speed as he worked to dispatch the remaining crawlons around him. He was talking, too, practically nonstop, but the translator still hadn't deciphered enough of the alien language to convey any of his words.

Two creatures moved on him together, so Apollo swung his backpack as a weapon. It collided with one, throwing it into the other, as he blasted another backward.

The universal translator beeped and finally began to convey the little man's words, inserting its interpretations when there wasn't enough context to be certain of the meaning.

"...keep telling you your wand [_weapon?_] isn't working on these salt spiders [_local name of unidentified creature?_], which makes me unsure if you're deaf, daft, or just dreadfully [_defenseless?_]. I'll do what I can to save you, but I must admit, I much prefer saving [_young ladies?_]. The [_rewards?_] can be much sweeter. Take that [_unknown's_] daughter, for instance—"

Seeing more of the salt spiders around him now than around the little man, Apollo fired again, almost straight down, to keep one of them from biting his leg. The blast blew off part of its head along with one its eyes and a mandible. It turned, hesitantly, before falling sideways. He fired twice more, now aiming for its head rather than the much larger body, before finally killing it. It was only then that he realized the little man was still talking.

"—and her father never found out. Ha ha! Watch out!"

Apollo turned to see the man's dagger flying just past him to pin a salt spider that had been about to bite him.

"Thanks!"

"Use Cat's Claw [_unknown creature's appendage?_] to protect yourself until your wand recharges! Ah! You murderous little beast—"

Apollo quickly grabbed the blade with the dead crawlon still attached in his right hand and used it as a shield of sorts to fend off another while continuing to hold his blaster in his left. Pinning one down with the dead one atop it, Apollo fired almost point blank at the head of the one below, leaving a large mess and another dead salt spider. He used the same procedure on another before realizing that there were no more around him. He looked up to see the little man staring at him, his sword sticking up in one of the creatures. The man put a foot on the dead beast and pulled the sword out, which he promptly wiped down on a some marsh grass.

"The others had enough. They ran away on seeing what a fine warrior like myself teamed with a good [_unknown_] of your apparent eminence could do to them, once you, ahem, finally figured out their weaknesses. I thank you for coming to my aid. It pains me to admit that it would have been a much longer fight had I had to deal with them all on my own."

"You're welcome," replied Apollo, stifling a chuckle. "And thank you for your help and for use of your dagger. My blaster wasn't very effective at range with these creatures." He wiped the blade as he'd seen the man do and held it out to him, handle first. "My name is Apollo. It's nice to meet you."

"I am called the Greimauser [_unknown proper name_]. The pleasure is mine. You are the [_wizard?_] who rode in on the [_wizard's star?_], correct? Why are you in the middle of the Great Salt Marsh without your [_staff?_]? Your magic wand was effective after you learned to use it properly on them, but I'm sure your staff would have been much more powerful and could have been used to blast them from the start. Then again, that probably would not have been very [_sporting?_]."

Apollo shook his head. "Ah, Greimauser, I think there's some confusion here. I'm really not—"

"I know! You seek [u_nknown proper name. Sheba?_]? Only those seeking the [_unknown_] One would come here as you have, on your flying chariot, far from the road through the marsh."

"Sheba! You know her? She's been here before?" asked Apollo excitedly, focusing on the thought. If Sheba had been to the planet before, perhaps she would return someday. That was, he knew, a remote chance since her visit had to have been with Commander Cain, her father, and the _Battlestar Pegasus_. Therefore, even if he couldn't fix his ship, perhaps she might possibly return someday, even it it was yahrens in the future. "Greimauser, how long ago was Sheba here?"

"Your speech is...quite unusual. I hear you say something in an unintelligible tongue and then hear your words in a very odd tone a few [_microns?_] later. That is very good [_technology? magic?_]. So, you do know Sheba [_Sheeba?_]?"

Apollo nodded. "Oh, yes. I know Sheba. I just met her and her father recently, though I'm sad to say that her father and his ship appear to have been lost in a battle with the Cylons, the enemy of my people. Now I think...well, I'm not sure exactly what I think, to tell the truth. I think we like each other, but...ahem, I'm not sure." Apollo let the words slip out before he even realized where he was going with his comment. He felt a sense of embarrassment at revealing something so personal, but he was relieved a moment later when Greimauser didn't even seem to notice, focusing instead on something else entirely.

"Ha! Her! I told my friend [_unknown herd of beasts? Unknown proper name_] that Sheeba might be female, but you never can tell with these wizards. And you have even met Sheelba's father? In all of my [_yahrens?_] working [_together? In servitude?_] with her, I never even thought about Sheeba possibly having a father."

Apollo tapped his earpiece. "I'm sorry but my translator is having difficulty with your language. Some of the words are translating quite strangely."

"Indeed. Well, follow me, and watch your step. This may take a while to find her_._"

"Wait? Find whom?"

"Sheeba, of course."

"You mean Sheba's here now?" Apollo's confusion grew. How could she have gotten to this strange place so quickly? She'd been on the _Galactica _when they left. Unless, Apollo feared, he was missing something.

He was about to ask Greimauser to clarify his statement when the young man spoke first. "You pronounce her name strangely for someone of possibly intimate standing, though the thought of that itself is scary in its own right. Eeeh!" The grimace on his face was plain. "As for being here, I don't know exactly where to find her at the moment, but that's subject to change at any time."

Apollo said nothing in response because he was looking off to the southeast where, in the distance, a huge spider was rapidly closing on them. "Greimauser, we'd best arm ourselves once again. It looks like those little guys' mother may not be pleased with what we did to her litter."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his little survival knife, just about a third of the length of the little man's dagger. It wouldn't do much, but, based on what he witnessed in the first fight, it might be better than nothing. He opened the blade, holding it at the ready in his right hand, and pulled out his blaster, read for a fight of fights as the giant crawlon grew near.

That was when he heard Greimauser laughing.

~BSG~

* * *

_**Follow-up Note: **Thanks to all who are reading this story and special thanks go to max2013 for the feedback. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Apollo glanced at the laughing man who was waving for him to lower his weapons.

"Sheelba comes. Her residence wanders the marsh, much like a salt spider does."

Thoughts flashed through Apollo's mind. _Her residence? Something's not right here. The way he says the name. No, this isn't my Sheba. _The hope he'd been clinging to was crushed.

Mouser continued without a pause. "It has been a pain in the [_backside?_] on occasion, but has never actually bitten me. And where in [_unknown_] did you get that clever little, folding knife? It's a bit small but—"

A wooden hut supported on five long but rapidly moving poles acting as legs came to a sudden stop directly in front of them. Both men looked up to see a black-robed figure standing at the edge of a platform that apparently went all the way around the building. What surprised Apollo most was that the being appeared to have no face, with only a field of deepest, darkest black within the hood of the robe that covered its head.

A crisp, clear voice sounded, almost as if in Apollo's head. "You are the visitor? The one whose ship landed on our coast?"

Half surprised that his presence was known, Apollo nodded. "Yes. My name is Apollo. And you would be Sheba, about whom my friend Greimauser has told me so much."

The being chuckled before speaking in the Colonial tongue. "Your translation device is quite good, but I see it could be better. I am called Sheelba of the Eyeless Face. I am what you might call a user of magical energy or what those of this world oftentimes call a wizard. Your friend, here, is actually called the Gray Mouser, after the feline that hunts mice, though, in truth, his friends usually know that and call him Mouser."

Though no eyes were visible, it felt like the being was giving him a withering stare for a number of microns before concluding, "Come inside my abode. You must tell me how and why you came to be here. And perhaps you, too, will learn something in the process."

~BSG~

Apollo was astonished at the size and beauty of the interior of the little hut as the three sat in large chairs around a low table. The room they were in was much larger than the hut appeared from the exterior, making him wonder if Sheelba had some type of cloaking device that obscured the actual size of his or her residence, or if, perhaps, it was the interior itself that was the illusion. He also wondered about the being's his or her aspect. In listening to Sheelba speak, the language and the being itself both seemed to be completely androgynous, making him feel bad that he'd led Mouser astray with his original contention, even if it eventually turned out to be correct.

After refreshments that Sheelba didn't touch but which Mouser and Apollo enjoyed, Sheelba said, "I look forward to your story with great interest. It is not often that one visits my home from so far away. Speak."

Though he'd initially had doubts, he decided to play it straight due to what Sheelba must already know. He said, "I am Captain Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica of the Twelve Colonies. You must know of my people if you speak my language. I was forced to come here following a battle with Cylon Raiders. Now I seek help in getting my ship repaired so I can return home."

"No," replied Sheelba. "I am completely unfamiliar with your race, but I greatly look forward to learning more. As for speaking your language, perhaps I have a more finely tuned universal translator than you?"

Apollo nodded slowly with a hint of a smile, realizing that he had underestimated the being in the robes. Since Sheelba was apparently being truthful with him, Apollo followed suit and told an abbreviated version of his story. "Now, my ship is damaged and I seek a mech tech—what you might call a mechanical engineer, a machinist, or maybe even a blacksmith—to help me repair it."

Sheelba chuckled. "Blacksmiths on Nehwon, this world, would have difficulty duplicating the level of precision that you would need for such a ship. Some might eventually be up to the task, but it would take several of your yahrens and there would never be any guarantees. As for the other professions, they are unknown here."

Once again, his hopes were crushed; the breath he'd been holding in anticipation was slowly released. It would be yahrens before he could depart this world of Newhon, but by that time, he wouldn't be able to leave since there would be nowhere for him to go. The fleet would have departed long before, leaving him behind while they journeyed on to Earth. Apollo's face fell.

Sheelba wasn't quite done though. "However, if the price were right, I might be able to do what they cannot now do."

Apollo looked up sharply at Sheelba's empty cowl. "You're serious?"

"Perfectly so. Do you have the schematic for your ship?"

His heart was racing as Apollo held up flight computer that he'd removed from his leg. "They're in here."

Bony, gray fingers emerged from the robe's oversized sleeve. Taking the device, Sheelba appeared to look at it before saying, "Serviceable."

Though there were no eyes visible, Apollo felt Sheelba staring back at him. "It works well enough for my needs."

"Then serviceable it truly is. Let us see your ship."

Apollo took the small computer and punched in the code before handing it back to the wizard so he or she could see the little readout. Instead of looking at it, Sheelba placed a thin, circular wafer on top of it and then waved a hand. The Warrior sat back in his chair when a variety of lights projected outward from the disk. The lights swirled before coalescing into a number of what were some of the best holographic images that the Warrior had ever seen. The images started collapsing in on each other, with more appearing around the room's periphery before they, too, made their way to the mass suspended in the middle of the room above the table. When the last pieces came together, Apollo saw a perfect model of his Viper prior to taking damage, though he was glad he'd deleted most of the internal workings and systems from the cockpit forward. If Sheelba were to somehow look at the forward part of the ship's interior, there would be very little to see.

"A beautiful ship," said Sheelba.

"Wow! I want a chariot like this," said Mouser, now standing and moving around to see the ship from various angles.

"Now, Mouser, it would take you many years to learn to operate such a craft only to finally discover that you would have nowhere to take it."

"Well, a guy can dream, can't he?"

With a half shake, Sheelba's empty cowl turned back toward Apollo. "The damage it has taken. Where?"

"I have it on the computer."

Another wave of the skeleton-like hand. "Yes, there," said the wizard as parts of the number two and three engines blackened and changed to their as-damaged appearance. "From outward appearances, this appears to be very repairable. Let's see..."

The being waved its hands and then pulled them apart, drawing the damaged pieces outward to be visible as if hanging in the room in front of them. Sheelba did more hand motions, causing an undamaged to part appear next to the damaged piece. Apollo rose from his seat, looking carefully at several of the items. The items even had the serial number in the right place, though, he had to smile when, instead of seeing the number he expected, he saw written "Serial Number."

Sheelba looked around the room for a couple of centons before speaking again. "Yes, the parts you need can all be reproduced, though some of the material may be rather difficult to find. Metallurgy on Nehwon, while good, is not typically as detailed as your specifications require."

"But you can do it?"

"Of course. Anything can be done for the right price."

_There it is_, thought Apollo. "I have some money, though it's not local."

"No," agreed Sheelba. "Not local at all, I'm sure, but it may still have value here."

Starbuck had taught him many yahrens before that one never exposes all of one's stake in normal circumstances, so Apollo pulled his cubits from the pyramid game out of his pocket. One of his cards fell out on the floor, too, so he picked it up and was about to put it back in his pocket when Sheelba said, "No, put it on the table, too."

"It's a playing card from one of our games," replied Apollo.

"All the more reason to put it on the table. A new game to spring upon one of my occasional associates would be most welcome. As for your payment, what more can you add?"

Apollo hid his disappointment as he opened his backpack. Inside the survival kit was a packet of blank coins in platinum, gold, silver, and copper. While they wouldn't be acceptable for normal transactions without a sample of a local coin and the small press in his Viper, but the weight of each base metal would have some value. He pulled out the packet and laid the blanks down with his cubits.

"And?"

"I think that should be enough."

"I think not. You ask a great deal. Producing the parts you need will take time, materials, and a great deal of energy on my part. I will be glad to help you by producing the parts that you can assemble together to repair your ship, but I expect to make a profit out of the endeavor. Nothing excessive, but at least a reasonable profit."

Apollo nodded slowly before reaching into the kit. A thin, flexible tube was sewn into one side in such a way as to be practically invisible to anyone who didn't know of its presence. He pinched the end and pulled it out before opening it to reveal ten diamonds, eight emeralds, six sapphires, and five rubies. Each set was of matching colors and sizes and those in each set were identically cut. A spray of color emanated from the gems from the lights above.

Mouser's eyes grew wide as he looked at the table. He looked almost entranced as he looked at the stones, his mouth moving slightly but saying no words. He started to reach out to pick one up but Sheelba lightly swatted his hand.

"Mouser has a great affinity for gemstones. Particularly those that don't belong to him but which are readily available for the taking. That attraction has been known to get him in trouble at times."

Apollo looked over at Mouser, wondering what else he didn't know about the little man, who finally drew his eyes away from the stones long enough to look at Apollo and shrugged. "What can I say? It was in my upbringing."

Sheelba picked up one of the diamonds and appeared to look at it through its eyeless face. "Manufactured, but quite beautifully done." The being raked all twenty-nine stones into a small bowl. "That will be almost enough."

"But I have nothing else to offer," objected Apollo.

"You have more than you think. You have knowledge."

Apollo shook his head. "I can't tell you things of strategic importance that could harm my people or things of great scientific value that might significantly alter the course of your own."

"Understood. However, there is much you might share that I could use to confound that sometimes associate that I mentioned earlier. He is more often something of a competitor, though his tendency to bloviate and then actually believe his own tales greatly diminishes his competitiveness and his threat."

"I'll be glad to share what I can within those guidelines," agreed Apollo.

"Good. It grows late. We will start our efforts in the morning with the retrieval of your ship. For tonight, you will find suitable lodging and sustenance down the hall. As those of this world say, 'good evening.'"

~BSG~

_**Author's Note: ** Thanks to all who are reading and many thanks to max for the feedback on Chapter 3. Such feedback is always greatly appreciated._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Two morning later, Apollo found himself in the city known as Lankhmar, the so-called City of the Black Toga, the City of Seven Score Thousand Smokes. While not sure about the appropriateness of the first nickname since most people were wearing coats or heavy robes, the second appeared to be very accurate even if he didn't actually have a good understanding of the actual number of chimneys pouring smoke out into the sky. With the cold weather, Apollo coughed a number of times before getting used to the smoky atmosphere that hung over the city like a dark shroud. He didn't particularly like the place but he had to be there since Sheelba had given Mouser and him a long list of items to be obtained in the city.

When asked why, Sheelba had replied, "While these _might_ be obtained by magical means, it would be a great deal of energy that is needed for the more important part ahead and would take far more time than we have."

Sheelba had taken a similar point of view when they picked up his ship. Standing on the ground next to his Viper, Apollo was almost transfixed as he watched the walking hut move close. A large jib crane seemed to shimmer into existence on the side of the platform; it looked so lop-sided and top heavy that Apollo feared that the crane or perhaps even the whole hut might tip over. A few centons later, though, with lifting lines attached, he was surprised to see the crane almost effortlessly lift the Viper and swing it through an opening in the side of the hut that hadn't been there just moments before. His ship looked huge in comparison to the relative size of the hut, but the opening closed a moment after the Viper was inside and the jib crane faded out of view just moments after that.

When he saw his Viper again a little later, it was in a relatively small but well furnished mechanical repair bay that might have rivaled a similar space on the _Galactica_. Like the room where they were first received, it was also much larger than the apparent size of the hut outside and this was only one of many rooms. Adding them all together, he started to wonder if the hut's true size wasn't hidden by a cloaking device but was in fact due its rooms somehow being on another plane of existence, if such a thing actually existed at all.

Now, though, as they walked through the city, Apollo talked quietly with the Gray Mouser. "Mouser, Sheelba seems to be willing to live up to the bargain, but I'm still worried that I could be missing something, that my trust is misplaced. Do you know what I mean?"

Mouser nodded. "I feel that every time I work with the Faceless One, but promises made have always been kept, though sometimes not exactly as expected. If you get anything in writing, just be sure to read the fine print."

Apollo looked at him questioningly, but when Mouser said no more, he nodded. "I really appreciate your help, too, but you know I can't adequately pay you for your service. You saw that Sheelba's taking everything I have. Why are you expending so much effort in helping me?"

Mouser replied, "Truthfully, you came to my aid when you didn't have to do so, and I am in Sheelba's debt. She...he?...once helped me with a problem but made me sign a rather onerous contract to do it."

"The fine print?"

"Exactly. My broken heart blinded my eyes to it, so I perform a service from time to time to fulfill my obligation and relieve the debt."

"Broken heart—a lost love?"

Mouser nodded. "My Ivrian, my true love, taken from me far too soon."

"I'm very sorry," said Apollo, feeling for the little man, who said nothing more despite Apollo's extended pause. Seeing Mouser would volunteer no more, he finally said, "I lost Serina, my sealmate, after we'd only been sealed a very short time."

"To lost loves," said Mouser, shaking his head as if to put them out of his mind. "Last evening, Sheelba said you have knowledge that is unlikely to otherwise be seen on Nehwon. Therefore, as much as I usually try to get out of it, or at least minimize my efforts to the wizard, you might say I'm returning your favor and working off part of the debt with hopes of learning something new in the process." He pointed. "Our first stop is right up here so we can get you properly outfitted."

Apollo couldn't read the sign but the symbol and the clanging of a hammer inside told him that it was a swordmaker's shop.

"Do you really think I need one of these?" asked Apollo.

"If you don't carry a weapon—something people can identify, unlike your, how do you say, pis-tol—people will think you're an easy mark. With the sword, they'll at least hesitate, which might give you time to get that thing out and blast them with it before they can run you through. And don't worry, Sheelba's expecting it among the expenses even though she's usually quite stingy on them."

Apollo sighed, giving in to Mouser's logic. He looked at the variety of swords available and recalled fencing lessons with the foil and, later, light rapier when he was in school and at the Academy. While he'd been pretty good, he didn't like the thought of having to defend himself with one against some of the cutthroats Mouser had described as they made their way to Lankhmar. He'd also used the heavier, Cylon broadsword on occasion but felt less comfortable with that obscene cleaver than the thinner sword. After discussing it with Mouser, his friend recommended a saber that allowed for more effective slashing and parrying of heavier weapons while still allowing some of the thrusting capability of the rapier. It felt good, relatively speaking, in Apollo's hand, and seemed well balanced in the few cuts and thrusts he made.

"I guess this will work," said Apollo with a degree of uncertainty in his voice.

"Let me take a look."

Apollo watched as Mouser took the sword in hand, hefted the blade, made a couple of experimental slashes, and then proceeded to "kill" the practice dummy numerous times with great precision in very short order.

"Good blade," said Mouser as he handed it to Apollo. "But don't use it unless you absolutely have to."

"You're _really_ good with that."

"The best," said Mouser with a proud smile. "Well, according to certain people, anyway."

Apollo didn't question him about who those people were, but, having seen Mouser with his own sword versus the salt spiders and what he did with Apollo's new sword when taking it for the first time, he suspected that whoever they were might not be too far off.

"This way," said Mouser. "And be careful. There are pickpockets and cutpurses everywhere." Looking at Apollo, he added, "Even for people who think they have nothing to take."

From the sword shop, they went to the Carters' Street where Mouser purchased a wagon and two mules to pull it. After that, they spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon visiting shops and making purchases that were placed in the back of the wagon, with Mouser doing the shopping and Apollo standing guard.

"Watch it closely or the cart will be as empty as your pockets when you take your next look. That is the way of Lankhmar."

In fact, Apollo saw a number of people watching him and the wagon closely, but he stayed alert and shooed away several young children and the few women who approached.

"Nice job," said Mouser as he came back carrying another bundle. "The imps would have robbed you blind, given the chance, and the [_prostitutes?_] would have gladly [_performed sexual activities?_] you silly while their [_pimp?_] took everything you had. Or worse."

Looking at children as young as four or five yahrens of age and thinking of Boxy, just a few yahrens older, Apollo was aghast. "This is so different than my worlds. I can't believe adults would allow children to be engaged in such activity. When the Cylons destroyed the Colonies, we did our best to find homes for our surviving orphans, families where they would be loved and nurtured."

Mouser's face was hard as he replied. "Believe it, Apollo. While your way would be ideal, it's not like that here. I know, for I was one of those children once, and women just like those helped raised me from a young age."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect."

Mouser nodded. "None taken. Just understand that if you're going to survive here, you must recognize your surroundings for what they are."

"You mean like those men who've been tailing us from shop to shop for the past couple of hours?"

Mouser laughed. "Exactly like those men. Perhaps you would do better here than I feared. Whoa, now!"

"Why are we stopping?"

"With those men following us, if we want to make it back to Sheelba's, we're probably going to need help."

"Guards?"

Mouser slapped his leg as he laughed raucously. "Keep dreaming! And keep watch. I'll be back in a few...if we're lucky."

~BSG~

When Mouser returned a little while later, he had Apollo get in the back before he started the wagon down the street. He drove for a little while, circling back through several winding blocks before heading north and finally east on what Mouser said was the Street of the Gods.

"The buildings look a, ah, a bit run down to be on a street with such a fine name," said Apollo as he hunched down behind the seat, looking ahead.

"Oh, we are on the poor end of the street. Gods that become more powerful, or at least those that have more prestige, move on down toward the west end of the street. As their popularity wanes, they are forced to move back toward this end. And there's our destination, right ahead."

"Wait. That's the gate we entered earlier, isn't it? Though we turned that way when we came in."

"Yes, indeed. The Marsh Gate. As we close on it and the disturbance begins, pull up the tarp, and then throw it back over as quick as you can after the [_mountain?_] jumps in with us."

"Mountain?"

But it was too late for Mouser to answer, since several prostitutes suddenly threw off their robes and began shaking tambourines and other things as they danced naked in the cold street, calling out for clients. Apollo quickly pulled the tarp forward and was gathering it in hand when a virtual giant of man—well over 2 metrons, Apollo thought—stepped out of the surging crowd and, with a grin, jumped into the back of the wagon. Assuming the giant qualified as Mouser's "mountain," Apollo tossed the tarp and Mouser cracked the reins. Moments later, the cart exited the city gate onto the Causey Road as the prostitutes put on their clothes once more, probably glad for the warmth and, for a few, the attracted clientele.

The three men traveled about a hundred metrons beyond the guard station outside the city gate before Mouser spoke. "Apollo, meet my lunk of a partner, Fafhrd, a barbarian from the far north who purports himself to be a learned scholar, superb musician, and great lover of wine and women, but who was still sound asleep at this late hour of the day. Fafhrd, this is Apollo, the warrior wizard who traveled from distant worlds on the star chariot named Viper."

A hand appeared from under the edge of the tarp and waved hello just before the big man with reddish blonde hair and beard succeeded in pulling the tarp back off his face. "Most pleasant to meet you, Apollo Starwarrior. With my little adventuring partner gone gods-only-know-where, I assumed that it had to do with that same love of wine or women that he mentioned—or possibly the surreptitious acquisition of exquisite gemstones or fine jewelry that he so favors—and I took it on myself to contribute to our resources by working as a [_security guard? bouncer?_] on the waterfront last night. Of course I was still asleep, little man! I must say, though, that I wasn't exactly expecting you to awaken me so abruptly and tell me to come at a moment's notice. Oh, and then having to spend all the coins I earned last evening on creating a diversion. Say, Mouser! What did you think of that show? And did you at least bring ale?"

"The lovelies were quite effective at diverting all eyes, I'm sure," responded Mouser. "And yes, there's ale in the cart with you, but it will have to wait. A band of footmen follows, pacing us. Seven, no, eight of them. They'll be coming up soon, most likely very fast, when we're out of sight from the city walls. Apollo, your pis-tol wand may be put to good use when that happens for if we fail to kill or at least incapacitate them, they will most certainly kill us all."

Fafhrd was still largely concealed under the tarp, but he pushed it to the side and shifted enough under cover of the wagons sidewalls to pull out his shortbow and a large sword that Apollo looked at in surprise. It was, he assumed, a weapon used with both hands, but the big man pulled out another blade and laid it to his left. "When you're my size, it sometimes pays to have your weapons drawn, friend, instead of struggling to unsheath them with your enemies swirling all around you."

He started to string his bow but the bumpy causeway road coupled with his inclined position made it difficult. "Mouser, do you have to hit _every_ pothole in the road?"

"Only the ones in the way," replied the little man. "Though that won't matter in a moment. They're starting to make their move."

"Can't we outrun them?" asked Apollo, trying to find a way to accomplish their goal and minimize bloodshed.

"Quite probably," agreed Fafhrd, "but that's probably what they're expecting us to do, making us run all the sooner into their comrades in ambush a short distance ahead."

Apollo nodded. "Classic Cylon trap."

"Classic trap anywhere," agreed Mouser. "And here's our spot where we respond. Hold on!"

The location Mouser noted was a wide section in the road, where caravans sometimes stopped for the night to avoid paying as much night tax in the city. As soon as said it, he popped the reins and pulled to the left, causing the mules to speed up and then circle back around. Within a few microns, the wagon was heading back toward Lankhmar and the men following them. When it had straightened up, Mouser swung his legs over the bench seat and landed in the back with the others.

"It's time," he said as he popped the reins again, causing the mules to speed toward their pursuers.

Apollo saw surprise on their faces as they drew swords and rushed forward, shouting to encourage each other and instill fear in their foes, only to draw to a stop a moment later as Fafhrd rose up in the back of the wagon with his bow drawn. The arrow flew. With practiced precision, he pulled and nocked another and was on the way to drawing the bow again.

With no choice, Apollo drew his blaster and fired, dropping one of the men in his tracks as another fell to Fafhrd's arrow. Twice more he fired as Fafhrd loosed the second shaft.

Confusion reigned among the attackers who were now themselves the ambushed. With almost half their number already down and the rest about to be overrun by the mule team, most of them dived to the sides, allowing Fafhrd to throw a hand axe that Apollo hadn't even seen before the big man leapt from the wagon with his sword in one hand and the big dagger in the other. Apollo heard the ring of sword on sword, but had no time to look since the other bandit almost dead ahead had succeeded in grabbing one of the reins and was about to use his sword on the mule rather than allow himself to be run down.

Apollo fired again, leaving the man to become entangled as he fell and then be dragged along. The weight caused the mule to slow, giving its partner all the excuse it needed to do the same, and, a moment later, the vehicle came to a stop.

"Watch out!" called Mouser as one of the bandits jumped on the side and slashed at Apollo in the wagon. The Warrior fell backward to narrowly avoid being hit. He had his blaster almost in position to fire again when the reverse slash of the sword hit it and sent it flying. He was trying to back up and draw his sword when the bandit, who'd now climbed on in, paused, looking down at Cat's Claw buried in his chest. He tumbled back over the side of the wagon and onto the ground below. Mouser jumped down to retrieve his dagger before Apollo could even thank him.

The Warrior made it to his feet and got his sword drawn to help out where he could, but, when he looked around, he saw that all of the bandits were either dead or injured and trying to get away. He started to breathe a sigh of relief when Fafhrd called, "The ambush party must have been close enough to hear. Get ready! Here they come!"

Seeing six more men a couple hundred metrons ahead but running toward them with weapons drawn, Apollo jumped out of the wagon and found his blaster before joining Mouser and Fafhrd, each armed with their sword and their dagger, behind the wagon. Relieved that his pistol didn't look damaged beyond a scratch, he fired four shots to be sure when the new group of bandits was still a good way away. That left four of the men already wounded and hurting before they could even close the distance, so they suddenly turned and limped away in the direction from which they'd come.

Apollo watched them go, hoping he'd done the right thing in choosing to wing them instead of killing them. If he ran into them again, he'd know he'd made a mistake. When he turned back, he saw Fafhrd and Mouser sitting on the now-lowered back gate of the wagon. Their weapons were sheathed and Fafhrd was smiling, holding out a jug to him.

~BSG~

_**Author's Note:**_

_Thanks to everyone for reading and to max for the comment on Chapter 4. Your feedback is appreciated!_

_Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser were fantasy characters appearing in his stories between the 1930s and his death in the late 1980s. More information on the fandom (including a link to a mini-primer) and a list of my other F&tGM stories are included in my profile. The disclaimer in Chapter 1 applies to Mr. Leiber's works, too. Regarding Mouser's claim on his prowess with a sword, Leiber claimed he was the best swordsman on Nehwon or any other world, with Fafhrd a very close second._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

"The materials look good," said Sheelba that night in Apollo's quarters. "I will start work tonight. It will take several days to produce them, so with your desired schedule, you will need to have your ship ready to rebuild as soon as the parts are ready."

"I'll start disassembling the damaged parts in the morning," agreed Apollo. "There are usually three or four mech techs involved, so I'm planning to ask Mouser to help—"

"No. Mouser will not be available since he will be assisting me. Speak with Fafhrd."

Apollo had a bad feeling about that. The big man was a rather jolly sort, but he'd seemed drunk ever since the battle on the causeway road.

"The concern on your face is justified, but it can easily be overcome. Fafhrd is the curious case of a great and inquiring mind being trapped in an oversized body much better suited for other, more martial pursuits. He uses the contents of the jug to entertain himself between such activities or interests. If you tell him what you want, he will likely surprise you with his interest and his dedication to the task."

Therefore, Apollo asked and Fafhrd answered as Sheelba had predicted. The two men started removing the damaged portions of the engines and doing minor repair work on other areas that suffered damage in the blast. Apollo had to watch maintenance videos to learn how to do parts of it, taking frequent notes.

Fafhrd was wide-eyed at the holo-videos, but was equally impressed with Apollo's pen. Not sure how it worked, he borrowed the pen once and wrote a couple lines of poetry before handing it back, very impressed. "Quill hawkers and ink merchants would pay a great deal to keep that device from being discovered by their customers," he said with a smile.

It was the afternoon of the second day when Apollo set the last damaged piece over to the side. He looked at what was left of his engines and said, "That's it, everything we can do until Sheelba starts supplying us with the replacement parts. I guess now we wait."

"No. We don't sit and we don't wait," responded Fafhrd. "Come, I have something to show you."

The room they entered was an old ruin, with cut stone ramparts that were partially collapsed and arched windows that seemed to reveal sky beyond. A wide curved stair led to the top of a battlement, and sand covered the ground.

"What is this?" asked Apollo. "It's very strange to have something like this in Sheelba's house or whatever this place is."

"Mouser and I have said the same," agreed Fafhrd, "but Sheelba claims it is a practice room, modeled after the place where one of the great swordfights of history took place. There are plenty of places to move around, fight in all directions, and even an illogically placed bar that one can swing on if one chooses. Mouser and I have tried to figure out why it would be there, but it's made no sense to us so far."

"Who was involved in the great swordfight?"

"A pirate and someone called a Spanjerd or Spaniard or something like that? I have no idea what a Spanjerd is or where they come from, but it turns out that this room is a very good place to practice." Fafhrd pitched Apollo a wooden sword. "Ready? Fight!"

They did several rounds, with Fafhrd giving Apollo pointers during and after each. The Warrior was making improvements, but, without drawing his blaster, he would have eventually been killed in each round if it had been a real fight. They finally sat down on a rock to rest, with Fafhrd taking a long swallow from a jug before handing it to Apollo.

"Your sword skills are improving, my friend, but my friendly advice is to not let your blaster wand out of your sight. We want you to get home in one piece, but most of those you might face with your sword would be far more experienced with the blade and far less interested in a fair fight than you."

"Thanks for the advice. This place is very alien in comparison to my society, though I think the Cylons, our enemies, might find themselves to be right at home if they weren't so intent on killing all the humans. As for the rest, getting home is my goal, too," agreed Apollo, taking a small swig before handing it back. "I'm starting to get worried, though. It's been two days and we haven't seen or heard from Sheelba. This may all be for nothing."

"Don't worry, Apollo. According to Mouser, that's Sheelba's usual way, disappearing for long periods and finally showing up with something finished and finished correctly. I don't think you'll be disappointed this time, either."

"I hope not. My concern is that we're going to all of this effort and then, assuming my Viper flies again, I won't be able to find the way home, or worse still, finally find my way back only to find that the fleet has moved on without me."

Fafhrd nodded before taking one more drink and standing up, stroking his beard in thought. "You said earlier that your Viper's eyes were blinded so it can't see its way home. You also said you're not sure if you can find the entrance to the skytunnel that will take you home with the star readings you took, right?"

"Essentially," agreed Apollo. "Or how to open the wormhole, the, ahem, skytunnel, if I can even find it. Are you familiar with navigation?"

The big man nodded. "I have captained ships and sailed Nehwon's seas far from land; the compass, the astrolabe, and the spotting scope are my friends. Still...if one doesn't know the destination's location, the best navigator in the world will never get one there."

"And that's the crux of my problem. I can get to the general vicinity, but may still never find my way home."

Fafhrd remained silent for a while before speaking again. "There once was a rich merchant, a great man of Lankhmar, who had much wealth, but he heard of another city where even more riches might be obtained. He looked at a map and saw that it was a great distance away, and he knew nothing about the route, so he hired carters, porters, and guards to accompany him. Most importantly, though, he hired the two best guides available to show him the way."

"You and Mouser?"

Fafhrd bowed slightly. "Of course. We've been all over, sometimes even by choice. Unfortunately in this case, though we delivered the merchant to his destination, the trip did not end as he would have preferred."

"So the point is that I should hire a guide? If only it was that easy. Even Sheelba can't help with where I need to go."

Fafhrd smiled. "Perhaps Sheelba can't help, but the Faceless One isn't the only wizard around who is familiar with other planes and other worlds. It so happens that the personal pain-in-my-backside and occasional adviser is currently visiting Lankhmar on some sort of wizardly business. Maybe he can help."

~BSG~

Apollo was reluctant to follow Fafhrd's plan, but it seemed that Ningauble of the Seven Eyes was the only other game in town. He became even more reluctant as Fafhrd described the man, not for his curious ocularity but, rather, for his propensity to collect and disseminate information to whatever buyer was interested. If the man were to encounter the Cylons and spread information about the Fleet, it could be a disaster, so Apollo's top priority was to avoid providing him with any such intelligence.

It was almost noon when they passed through the Marsh Gate to enter Lankhmar once again. Apollo, wearing his dark gray robe with his sword at his side and his blaster concealed below the robe, followed along behind Fafhrd, who wasn't sure where the wizard would be found but claimed to at least have an idea.

They'd traveled a short distance south on what Fafhrd said was called Cheap Street when the big man abruptly stepped into an alley and pulled Apollo in behind him. A finger to his lips led Apollo to nod in reply and grip the handle of his blaster through the access hole in the robe's pocket. Several microns later, four tough-looking men, probably barely adults, passed by the alley's entrance, taking turns advancing with furtive movements, as if trying to avoid being seen by someone they were following.

"The Thieves' Guild is headquartered in a little alley further south on Cheap," whispered Fafhrd. "They aren't particularly fond of Mouser or me, nor we of them. Those footpads spotted me a couple of blocks back, so we're going to have to take the alleyways rather than the direct route. Stay on your toes; if they catch up to us unawares, they won't hesitate to try to cut our throats."

"Why?" asked Apollo quietly.

"We've had our run-ins. So far it's about _[uncertain_ _number_] to two. Mouser and I will never even the score, but we keep trying."

"They've killed—sorry, I didn't get the number—a bunch of your men?"

"No. They killed our girls."

Apollo's breath caught. "He wouldn't tell me—Mouser's Ivrian?"

Fafhrd nodded. "And my Vlana. It's been almost nine years...but we will never forget."

"I'm sorry."

Fafhrd's eyes were damp as they caught Apollo's. He gave an another, almost imperceptible nod before saying, "Come."

~BSG~

Like many of the buildings of Lankhmar, it had been built of baked clay bricks. Now, years later, all that remained were sections of two intersecting walls at a corner and a mound of debris with two to three metron tall trees growing up through it from where the rest of the structure had collapsed years earlier. Adjacent buildings just a few feet away on all sides cast practically the whole site in shadow.

The wall appeared to be four wythes thick, but much had crumpled and bricks and brick fragments littered the ground around its base outside the building footprint, too. The larger wall segment, perhaps four metrons long by almost three metrons high, was graced by a thick wood door, but it appeared to have been enclosed on the other side of the wall.

"What's special about a bricked up door opening?" asked Apollo.

Fafhrd smiled. "Here, move those bricks out of the way so we can open it and see." He pulled a small box out of his pouch and knelt down while Apollo cleared the space.

Moments later, Fafhrd inserted a key, turned the latch, and pulled the door open toward them. "Go!" he whispered to Apollo before slipping through the opening behind him. The door shut with a resounding boom and they were enveloped in darkness.

Thinking it might be some type of trap, Apollo gripped his blaster but a tiny light suddenly appeared, revealing Fafhrd puffing softly on the match cord he'd lit with his tinderbox outside the door. Holding it high, he asked, "Do you see the lantern?"

"There's one," replied Apollo, pulling it off a hook on the wall.

When lit, the light revealed, just beyond the landing where they stood, a spiral stair going down.

~BSG~


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

The voice was deep, resounding, coming from the large, robed figure reclining on a daybed while cast in shadow. "Welcome, Fafhrd, my boy. You come at last and you bring an unexpected guest. Forgive my unpreparedness; I am a better host when I'm properly warned. Take, for instance, the time—"

"Great Gossiper," interrupted Fafhrd, "we had no time to forewarn you of your guest for this is the Colonial Warrior, Apollo, newly arrived from distant stars."

Ningauble of the Seven Eyes, the trader of information sometimes known as the Gossiper of Gods, huffed at being interrupted in telling a much favored story. That it was one of many much-favored stories that would have kept his guests busy for hours on end failed to cross his mind. Instead, he was now faced with a source of potentially new and untapped information that someone, somewhere, might someday find valuable. "From the stars? Truly? Traveler Apollo, what, pray tell, brings you to this corner of the universe and to my temporary abode?"

Fafhrd replied, "He comes seeking aid in returning to his own people."

Ningauble leaned forward so he was now in the light. The cowl of his robe was mostly empty similar to that of Sheelba of the Eyeless Face, but where the inside of Sheelba's was completely black and featureless, Apollo saw that Ningauble's featured six—or was it seven?—eyes that roamed around the hood's confines with great irregularity. They looked like fireflies flitting about within the space but one would occasionally come forward from the darkness, revealing an actual eye, orb-like and many-veined, on a roving, projecting eyestalk. Having been warned in advance by Fafhrd as to his host's alien nature, Apollo didn't start with the surprise or outright fear that Ningauble often received, leading the burly being to draw back in surprise of his own.

"Hmmm," Ningauble grunted. "Such aid might take great effort, far beyond the means of all but the greatest and wisest such as myself. What gifts does he bring to make it worth my while in assisting him?"

Apollo stepped forward toward him, hoping Fafhrd's idea would work and Ningauble would take the initial bait. "I bring knowledge in return for your assistance."

"Pfffh," muttered the Gossiper. "What knowledge have you to share that I cannot obtain with gold or gems or pretty baubles?"

A bit more bait. "Knowledge I've shared with the one known as Sheelba of the Eyeless Face."

Ningauble leaned forward, with several of his eyestalks projecting at the Warrior. "What knowledge have you shared with that charlatan?"

"A great deal," replied Apollo, still following Fafhrd's suggestion but hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick. "I'll be glad to fill you in with all of that and more beside. But only if you can provide me with the route home to my people."

"There is more that you haven't given that pesky pretender?"

And finally, the hook. "Of course. Much more."

Ningauble's great body shook as something approximating a laugh emanated from deep within him. "Much more, eh? Well why didn't you say so from the start? Now, tell me of your desired destination and we will see if what you ask can be done."

~BSG~

Over the next two days, Apollo spoke at length with the garrulous one, finding it humorous that he himself actually spoke far less than than Ningauble, despite the being's desire to obtain new information.

Apollo told stories of his people, both old and new, including the history of the war with the Cylons, but he revealed nothing that could be of any military value to any who might someday cross either of their paths. He even shared fairy tales he recalled from his childhood and the few jokes he could actually remember, including a couple of really juvenile ones that Boxy had told him. Finally, he drew pictures of the deck of pyramid cards, for when Ningauble learned of Sheelba's keen interest in the game, the Gossiper insisted that they play hand after hand until he knew the rules of the game and some of its finer nuances.

Still, Ningauble also asked many questions, with particular emphasis on Apollo's route and the Colonist's method of space travel.

"This jump point you speak of, how does it work?"

"Our ships have large engines but they can only push us along within the normal parameters of time and space. However, there are positions within each star system where the relative gravity of that system aligns perfectly with that of the destination system. When we reach those points, we're able to activate our jump engines to effectively warp space so we can move across great distances between such points relatively quickly."

"The jump engines allow you to move these distances? They drive you along?" asked Ninguable.

"We call them engines but they're actually field generators that allow us to enter jump space, the warped space, where our regular engines push us along at our same speed as usual. However, because the space itself is warped, we're able to travel long distances quite quickly. Without the field generators, the so-called jumps between stars would be impossible; even the youngest member of the fleet would be an adult or perhaps even elderly before we could arrive at the nearest neighboring system if the regular engines on the majority of the ships were used."

"How far can you travel in this jump space?"

"It depends on the points we've chosen. We calculate a number of possible jump points to various distant systems, but there are restraints on the routes we can take and where we can go. We have to avoid passing too close to other stars since their gravitational pull would cause problems with our field generators and might leave us stranded in unknown systems or possibly even far from a system at all. If that were to happen, it might be another case of old and gray or even dead before we get to our desired destination."

Between various tales and expatiations, Ningauble also asked many questions about the Nendaran Expanse, Apollo's entry into the wormhole, and how he came out. He studied Apollo's flight recorder carefully, including the inexplicable gap while he was in the wormhole, and then, between yet more stories and soliloquies, he asked more questions.

Finally, Ningauble would occasionally take a break, leaving Apollo and Fafhrd to play cards, practice swordfighting, or even sing together. Mostly though, they sat and talked, with Fafhrd's jug of ale occasionally being replaced with a bottle of wine, or, in one case, a bottle of hard liquor that Fafhrd borrowed from one of Ningauble's previously locked cabinets.

"Mmm, smooth," said the big barbarian. "This will make you feel better after having to listen to his last spiel."

"My ears are practically ringing," agree Apollo with a laugh. "Does he always talk so much?"

Fafhrd chuckled. "Always, and often more. Consider yourself lucky to have interested him so much that he allowed you to be heard at least parts of the time. On the occasion when they have to work together, poor Mouser can rarely get a word in edgewise."

The next morning, Ningauble insisted on another session where he asked more questions and told more tales. When he was done, surprisingly, he held out a green gemstone to Apollo. "This is what you seek. If that quack Sheelba can actually make your starship fly again, this will show you how to reach the anomaly that will allow you to get back to your starting point. When you are near the point where you entered this system, hold the gem in front of you, concentrate on what you wish, and then release it; it will show you the way. Be forewarned, however, it will help you but it will not keep you safe. That, my boy, is up to you."

~BSG~

After thanking Ningauble and saying goodbye, Apollo and Fafhrd emerged from a shadowy corner at the end of a narrow alley between five-story-high tenement buildings. Smoke seemed practically trapped in that dead space, leading to more coughing from Apollo as he got used to it. Clotheslines weighed down with wet laundry crisscrossed at various heights above the little street. Water dripping from above made it almost seem like they were out in a light rain. They were about half way to the end when four men stepped out in front of them from a doorway on the side.

"Fafhrd, it's been so long we thought you'd slipped our noose but we find you just in time to pull it tight. Get'em, boys."

"Get behind me, Apollo. This isn't your fight," said the big man as he drew his greatsword and his long dagger and stepped forward.

Apollo's hand slid into the pocket of his robe and on through the hole to the grip of his blaster. Firing it in the city might attract a crowd, but he saw little choice. With the swordfight about to begin, he drew and fired three times.

An end of one, two, and then three lines collapsed, dropping wet laundry atop the attackers. Entangled in the clothes and the lines, they were bent over trying to untangle themselves as Fafhrd stepped in among them. He was about to run one through when Apollo said, "Fafhrd!"

The big man hesitated before saying a curse word and, reversing course, bashing the attacker with the pommel of his sword rather than using the blade. He did the same with a second who was almost free. Kicking another who might possibly have been getting close, he stepped across them as Apollo followed behind. Turning back toward the men, Fafhrd added, "Gentlemen, today is your lucky day for my good-natured conscience is with me. I warn you, though, your luck for today has run out. If you try to follow us, that conscience won't protect you again."

~BSG~

It was late afternoon when they located Sheelba's wandering hut near the west end of the Great Salt Marsh. Instead of being greeted by Sheelba, they were surprised to see the Gray Mouser standing at the edge of the platform to let down the rope ladder.

"Good news, Apollo. Sheelba's finished the first parts for your ship. Come."

Apollo looked at one piece closely and compared it to the specification. Assuming the material was correct, it looked perfect. "I'm on the chrono and it's running down fast. Time to get started."

Mouser started delivering a few more parts at a time as Sheelba completed them, and Apollo rebuilt the Viper's engines as quickly as possible with Fafhrd helping out where he could. Apollo grew more and more tired but avoided looking at his chrono since getting back in time before the fleet jumped for the next system might be a matter of centons or even microns.

"Friend, you need rest," said the big man, handing him a wrench.

"A friend once told me there would be plenty of time to sleep when he was dead. In my case, it's not that drastic; I'll have some time to sleep between Nehwon and the wormhole."

Mouser, who'd been able to catnap at times while Sheelba worked, was fighting off a yawn as he wheeled in the cart. "Sheelba said this is the last batch! How's it coming along?"

"We're almost finished with the next to last set before this one. Stick them over to the side, we'll need those in a few centars...hours," said Apollo. "If Sheelba's done, where is he?"

"She," replied Mouser, emphasizing the pronoun, "said she had something else to take care of while you finish reassembling your ship."

"Understandable," agreed Apollo. "He...or she...must be exhausted, too. Well, let's get this done."

~BSG~

_**Author's Note:**_

_Thanks for reading. Please consider letting me know what you think of the story. Your feedback will help me to improve my writing and encourage me to continue writing in the fandom._

_One chapter remains..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

Despite having parts that weren't painted, the completed Viper was a thing of beauty in Apollo's eyes.

"Wow," said Mouser. "If you ever have an extra one of these, I'll be glad to take it off your hands."

"It is a pretty thing," agreed Fafhrd, "but I'd love to see what your people could do with seagoing ships. If I had one that looked anything close to as nice as that, I'd probably never set foot on dry land again."

"Well, the question now is whether everything will work and if she'll fly. The diagnostics all check out. We just need to get it outside where we can start the engines and I can be on my way."

Sheelba entered as Apollo was speaking. On seeing the completed ship, the being said, "Success. Excellent. Are you ready to depart?"

"Other than flight checks, I'm ready to go. We need to get the ship outside on a suitable launch strip or I'll have to do a VTOL, a vertical takeoff."

Sheelba waved its hands, causing a wall panel to open revealing a long room with the far end open to the sky. There were a number of vents along the way. "If I have read your specification properly, this should be more than adequate."

The room's cross section was big enough to fit the Viper with room to spare. Apollo quickly paced off its length, looked at the vents, and took a look outside for any obstructions before saying, "This will be perfect. Thank you."

Sheelba nodded silently. "Apollo, this has been a challenge unlike any I've ever undertaken. I thank you for the challenge and the knowledge you have provided."

Apollo reached into his pocket and pulled out a data disk. "And I thank you for all of your efforts and your assistance. Here's something more that you might find interesting." With that, though it was different information, Apollo hoped he was making what he'd given Sheelba equal what he'd given Ningauble.

When he got back to his Viper, he saw the Gray Mouser and Fafhrd standing by. "Gentlemen, it was very nice to meet you both and I appreciate all of your help. It's not much but here's a small gift for each of you."

Each gift was wrapped in a plain white paper tied with a string. With a rip, Fafhrd held up Apollo's ink pen and Mouser held up his folding survival knife.

"Thank you," they both said with a grin as they took turns clasping his arm.

"You and your people are _most_ unusual in comparison to Nehwon folk, but we are glad to have met you," said Mouser.

Fafhrd nodded in agreement. "And may your Lords go with you."

Moments later, Apollo was strapped in his Viper running preflight checks. Hoping that all was well and there wouldn't be a clang and followed by nothing or, worse yet, an explosion to kill them all, he started one engine at a time. When running, they all showed as operating correctly. Satisfied, he gave a salute to his three friends, who'd moved off to the side, well away from the coming blast. With a smile he said, "Ready to launch!" and then hit the turbothruster.

~BSG~

The Viper worked flawlessly as he launched and climbed higher and higher into the sky above the world of Newhon. He was sure it was a coincidence but he'd stumbled on the fact that Newhon spelled backward in the Colonial tongue was Nowhen or No when. That was essentially "Never" and, he knew, Starbuck was never, ever going to believe his tale.

All systems were reading normal as he achieved orbit. After doing one more check, he set the course to his approximate destination and, a few centons later, he was sound asleep.

He awoke, much refreshed a couple of centars later, glad that the way back had been much faster than the flight to Nehwon. While he had no idea exactly where he'd entered the system, he believed he was fairly close.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the green gemstone. It was a little over a centimetron across and round but many faceted, like nothing he'd ever seen. Looking at it, he recalled Ningauble's instructions to hold the gem in front of him and concentrate on what he wanted. "Release it and it will show you the way."

In truth, he didn't know exactly what to expect. He hoped he was close enough to his goal for it to work, and wished Ningauble had been more informative about what would happen. "An actual instruction manual might have been nice."

He also hoped it wouldn't go zipping out of his hand through the canopy screen into the coldness of space. If it did, he'd probably only have a few microns to patch the screen before he lost consciousness and he might not be able to follow it. Not wanting to risk that, he put on his rarely used oxygen mask and readied a patch, just in case.

"Okay, here goes," he said aloud as he held the gem out in the palm of his upturned hand. "Show me the way to the wormhole and back to the fleet," he added as he concentrated on his wish.

Instead of zipping away as he'd feared, the gem hung in the air as if suspended by a string and started to glow. Within moments, it was soon projecting a holographic map in front of him. It took a few microns to align with prominent stars in the distance, but when it was, another line, a green one, emanated from the gem and projected to a point a little to his left and up several degrees.

_If this is right, that's not bad. Now, let's see where it takes us._

With practiced precision, he moved the Viper's stick and soon had it centered dead ahead. For about fifteen centons, nothing happened as he moved along on the course set by the line, but eventually, he noted that the point on his canopy screen was starting to grow. His sensors gave him nothing but the dot on the canopy kept getting bigger as he moved closer, making him wonder when the best moment would be to fire his turbolasers to try to open the wormhole.

The dot was almost as large as a triad ball when three tiny yellow lights appeared around the perimeter of the circle, forming a perfect triangle. These each became a line slowly converging for the center of the circle.

"I shouldn't have told Ningauble about triad," mused Apollo as he watched the lines closed on the center. Microns passed as the lines extended with his thumb hovering just above the fire control button. When they finally met, they formed a yellow circle that started to flash as it got larger. Once again wishing he'd gotten more detailed instructions, he hoped he was doing the right thing as he fired.

The laser blasts hit dead center on the growing yellow circle. As they did, the distant stars were hidden by a growing blackness that got larger and larger as he neared, and a moment later, he sped into the void.

~BSG~

The blackness surrounded him and time seemed to stand still as it had in his first trip, but this time, rather than the doubts and worries he'd experienced before, he felt hope. At the other end of the wormhole, there was, hopefully, home.

This time, when he thought of Sheba, Boxy, his father and sister, Starbuck, and all the rest, it wasn't with sadness but with the happy prospect of seeing them again. However, he still had to get back to the _Galactica_ to do that; for now, he was focused on the little green dot that he'd followed to the wormhole.

Ages seemed to pass but he realized he'd never once blinked his eyes while in the wormhole so perhaps it was only a matter of microns after all. His thought was interrupted when the green dot started to grow and some time later the three yellow lights appeared. Not sure how long it would take to fire in comparison to closing on the unseen target, he moved his thumb down.

He fired a second time and then a third before the yellow lines converged to form what he considered was Ningauble's version of a targeting dot. The third shot impacted on the void space the dot seemed to cover and there was a brilliant burst of color as he reentered the cloudy Nendaran Expanse with a multitude of barely visible stars well beyond its confines. He could move again as his scanner sounded and showed a Cylon Raider dead ahead coming straight toward him. The gem and its green light were gone, no longer needed as he fired three times and saw the Cylon ship explode.

"Whoa! How'd you make...180 so fast on...gine?" called Starbuck through the comm.

"Starbuck! You're here!" said Apollo with more excitement than he usually exhibited.

"Yeah, it's not like I...s that far behind. I got the oth...one so...last of them." The signal strength improved as the ships came together. "Let's go home. Hey! Your engine doesn't look damaged after all."

"It was bad but you'll never believe me if I were to tell you what really happened."

"Probably not," agreed Starbuck with a laugh. "But let's head home and you can tell me on the way."

Apollo related the story of his adventure, but when he concluded, he said, "I remember it all, but I didn't bring anything back to prove it, even my sword. It's like I was never there."

"Yep, never," agreed Starbuck. "Are you sure you didn't bump your head in the explosion and, well, maybe dream it all?"

~BSG~

They landed on the _Galactica _a short time later. As Apollo started to get out of his cockpit, several maintenance techs were gathering around staring at the back of his ship. He wasn't focused on them, though, since he saw Sheba coming toward him. He gave her a smile and climbed down. She looked apprehensive as he stepped down on the deck beside her.

"Welcome home. I was worried about you," she said after giving him a polite, but hesitant, hug, as if she didn't really want to let go. "Jolly got back a little while ago and said you were having trouble with sensors and the comm system out there."

"Flying in soup isn't my favorite activity but we accomplished the mission and made it home."

She smiled at him, but Starbuck came jogging up. "Apollo, I didn't see a bit of damage but that's really weird how the Cylons shot the finish off parts of your Viper. I've seen that before but never without them leaving scorch marks."

Apollo shook his head. "Nehwon, Starbuck. It was Nehwon."

Starbuck laughed again. "Yeah, right."

Sheba gave a questioning look at both of them as Apollo stuck out an elbow. She started to hook her arm in his when one of the mech techs called out, 'Captain Apollo. You dropped something!"

The technician came running up and said, "This was on the floor of your cockpit, Captain."

He held out his hand and dropped something into Apollo's. The Warrior opened his hand and said, "That's unexpected."

Sheba gave him a quizzical look. "What is it?"

"Long story. Can I tell you over dinner?"

"I'd like that," she replies.

Starbuck had a dubious look, so Apollo handed him the little green gem that had shown him the way home. "I thought it disappeared when I came out of the wormhole, but I guess it just fell on the floor when I was busy staring down the Raider coming right at me."

"Seriously?" Starbuck asked. "It was all real?"

"I really don't know," replied Apollo. "Maybe it's not 'never there,' but rather, 'whenever.'"

_The End_

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Thanks so much for reading. Please let me know your thoughts with your reviews, comments, favorites, and follows. Please support our other Galactica writers, too. Your support encourages new stories. Thanks!_

_Regarding the other fandom used in this story, Fafhrd, a huge barbarian, and the Gray Mouser, the little thief, were the heroic anti-heroes of a series of fantasy/adventure stories written primarily by Fritz Leiber between the 1930s and his death in the 1980s. The main characters were originally created by Leiber's friend Harry Otto Fischer in a letter to Leiber, and the two men further developed the characters and created the world of Nehwon together. While Leiber wrote most of the stories, Fischer later wrote a couple of short stories for the pair, too. The collection of stories was eventually edited and combined into a series of seven books. Their adventures served as part of the inspiration for a number of sword and sorcery-type games including Dungeons and Dragons. I've written several other F&tGM stories; please see my profile if you're interested in checking them out.  
_

_I'll be moving this story into the crossover category sometime soon._


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